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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332747">Sirius</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/official__froggie/pseuds/official__froggie'>official__froggie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Castiel Dies (Supernatural), Dean is an Idiot, Demon Castiel (Supernatural), Demon Dean Winchester, Demons, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Might Have A Happy Ending, On Crowley’s Part, Ruler of Hell Castiel, Sam and Eileen are very wholesome, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, This fic is a mess tbh, Unrequited Love, couldn’t be me, imagine making a demon deal with your dead crush, jack gets a boyfriend, many single man tears, might not idk, the wayward sisters are the only ones with common sense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:28:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/official__froggie/pseuds/official__froggie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, rendered human after a loss in grace, is killed on a hunt. Several months later, Dean meets a peculiar blue-eyed man looking to sell some sleep medication and offer advice to him at a bar, and, well, it turned out to be quite a big... deal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley (Supernatural) &amp; Dean Winchester, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Eliot (Supernatural:Lebanon)/Jack Kline, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sirius</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>All aboard the feels train, choo choo</p><p>Anyways please leave comments I’m tired and lonely</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean gets drunk and makes a mistake.</p><p>Sam has to deal with the consequences. Of his intoxication, not his mistake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was drunk.</p><p>  No, not normal, really-buzzed-and-a-little-eccentric drunk, more like white girl wasted. It was a normal occurrence for him now. It was the only way to stop the nightmares, after all.</p><p>  <em>“Cas? Cas!”</em></p><p>
  <em>  “Sammy, he isn’t breathing! Can’t you do CPR or something?!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “We can still help him! He can’t be-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “Dean, I’m sorry. He’s gone.”</em>
</p><p>  Even if he did get a killer hangover the next morning.</p><p>  “Get me another, uhmmm… shot. Yeah.” he slurred, his vision blurry. Even he could admit he wasn’t looking the best at the moment. His hair greasy and knotted, a shadow of a beard along his jaw. He couldn’t remember the last time he washed his clothes, let alone his body. The lips that so many people wanted to kiss were now dry and swollen. When was the last time he got over 5 hours of sleep? </p><p>  No, 5 hours is pushing it. 4, maybe?</p><p>  The equally drunken people who used to hit on him constantly now made sure to stay 10 feet away from him. But he didn’t mind. Why would he? They were annoying, anyways. It’s not like he’d had eyes for anyone besides-</p><p>  <em>“CAS! C’mon, buddy, get up!”</em></p><p>
  <em>  “I can’t find his pulse, Sammy!”</em>
</p><p>  Anyways.</p><p>  So you could imagine his surprise when a young man with big, sky blue eyes slid into the seat next to him.</p><p>  “Whaddoyouwan?” Dean mumbled in a jumble of words. The man smiled a bit, his eyes glinting a little. WIth what? Happiness, or something else? Dean couldn’t tell. “Hey, mister. I have seen that you’re a regular at this bar, but recently you’ve been looking very sad. Are you doing alright? Of course, if you are comfortable answering.”</p><p>  Dean’s mind was too foggy to understand half the words he uttered, but went along with it the best he could. “Uhmmm... it’s a long story, kid.” Dean didn’t see the sudden flash of anger -before regaining composure- on the man’s face. “Well, I’m bored. I’d love to hear your story.” “Okay, well…”</p><p>  Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell your entire life story to a complete stranger. Any normal person would have been freaked, but the man was genuinely interested. Dean was just happy to have someone who would listen to him, sad as it sounds. In his drunken haze, he could barely even see what the guy looked like. All he saw were pretty blue eyes and raven black locks that could only be described as “sex hair”. </p><p>  Maybe that’s why he was so willing to rant to the dude.</p><p>  Towards the end of Dean’s story, the man interjected with an offer. “You have been complaining about nightmares, but it just so happens I work for a company that makes sleep medication. I would be happy to give you a bottle for free. The medication works very well, I use it myself.” </p><p>  Now, Dean was just drunk enough to believe every word the blue eyed man spoke. “Huh, really? I’ll take ‘em off your hands if you really insist. I mean, I got nothing left to live for. I’ll try just ‘bout anything to stop these dreams, man.” The man’s lips twisted into something of a sneer. “That’s just fantastic. The only thing is… You need to sign something. Just because, you know, it’s some pretty powerful medication. Normal procedure.” Dean nodded. Normally, he would have seen through this obvious lie, but… well. </p><p>  The blue-eyed man pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from who knows where. Dean could see there was some text at the bottom of the paper, but his vision was too wobbly to make out the print. Something about 2 months… Probably just terms and conditions. He grabbed the pen and signed the sheet sloppily, his signature barely legible. The man snatched the paper away and instead handed Dean a orange pill bottle, full to the brim with small white pills. “God, thanks dude,” Dean sighed.</p><p>   “You are welcome. Now, you’re quite drunk- do you need someone to drive you home?” “No, no. I’ll just call Sam… uh, my brother.” Dean shook his head. “Well, alright. If you ever want to speak with me some time, here’s my phone number.” He pulled out another slip of paper, this time with a series of numbers scribbled onto it, and set it on the table. “Cool, thanks. Uh, by the way, I never got your name?” As the man was standing up to leave, he turned his head to look at Dean. “Call me C,” he smirked. Dean was too busy dialing Sam’s number to see the man's eyes flip to a pure, deep ocean blue filling his entire eye, the white, pupil and all.</p><p>----------</p><p>  “God, Dean, how did you even get this drunk?” Sam huffed. “I leave you alone for a couple hours and you go out and get wasted!” “Yeah…” Dean murmured, his cheek pressed against the car window. He had collapsed halfway to Sam’s car in the parking lot, leaving Sam to drag him the rest of the way. Now they sat in the freezing cold car, Dean in the backseat, driving back to the bunker. “We’re gonna have to come back tomorrow so you can get the Impala. I trust you still have the keys?” Dean shoved his hand into his pocket and rummaged through the junk, eventually finding them. “Yep,” he grinned, raising them into the air as if they were a prize. “Great. Oh, and uh…” Sam glanced at his only semi-conscious brother. “Thanks for not being a dumbass and driving yourself back. You could’ve gotten hurt.” Dean snorted. “Really, Sammy? I’m dumb, but not that…” he paused, seemingly losing his train of thought. “Dumb.” </p><p>  They drove in silence for a couple minutes, before pulling into the bunker’s driveway. “Okay, we’re here. C’mon, let's get you inside.” Sam opened the car door and slid out, quickly closing it. He then opened Dean’s door and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the car. Whatever Sam had planned for getting Dean out failed- Dean immediately sunk to the ground, only held up by Sam’s grip on his arm. Sam groaned, trying- and failing- to lift Dean up. “Jesus, what did you drink in that bar? Cement?” Dean tried to stand up to no avail, just wobbling and falling back down.       After a couple minutes of struggling with his brother, Sam just slipped an arm under Dean’s knees and the other under his back, lifting Dean up bridal style. Sam huffed from the sudden 200-ish pounds in his arms. Dean didn’t object, making Sam guess he blacked out. The moose made his way over to the bunker entrance, almost slipping and falling on the steps. He could hear running from within the bunker (loud metal clunking noises, really) when the door suddenly swung open to reveal Jack. </p><p>  “Hey Sam!” He frowned at the sight of Dean in his arms. “What’s up with Dean?” Sam looked at him strangely. “Uh, he’s kinda… really drunk. How did you know it was us?” Jack got out of the way to allow the brothers inside. “I sensed you, and urgency.” He shut the door, turning to face Sam and Dean. “Is he going to be okay?” Sam knew he meant Dean, and answered with “Yeah, He’s gonna be okay. Just gonna have a really bad hangover, that’s all.” Sam began going down the stairs, careful not to drop his brother. He made his way to Dean’s room, setting him on his bed. As he was doing so, a small, orange pill bottle slipped out of Dean’s jacket pocket. Sam frowned. He didn’t know Dean was taking any medication. Regardless, he sat the bottle down on Dean’s nightstand, then taking his boots and jacket off so he didn’t get his bed dirty with mud. He could ask Dean in the morning, when he's conscious. "Night, Dean," he muttered, more to himself than his brother.</p><p>  Before he left, though, he glanced at Dean's open closet. Inside was basically a shrine for Castiel, with his trenchcoat, a couple photos and a bunch of things he knew belonged to Cas but wasn't sure how Dean obtained.<br/>
  It had been 4 months since the ex-angel's untimely demise, but Dean was still filled with so much grief. It scared Sam to think of how long this had gone on, with Dean being so unwilling to grieve for over a month or so with everyone else they had lost. Saying that "they had work to do". But now? Sam couldn't remember the last time Dean had gone on a case.</p><p>  Nothing was getting better, and that's what scared the younger Winchester so much.</p><p>  "Sam! What's for dinner?" he heard Jack call from the main room, snapping him out of his thoughts. "One sec, Jack," he responded. Sam carefully padded out of Dean's room and closed the door with a soft click. He could worry about everything later. Right now, he had people to care for.</p>
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